


Provenance of Truth

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, post-680
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows, somehow, that this was always how she was going to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provenance of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This is me, leaning into my feels about chapter 680. I am unsure how exactly, I became so attached to pencil drawings, but you know. 
> 
> Dedicated to the #ichiruki hell squad. <3

The air at the top of the stairs tastes of violence, and Rukia swallows hard as she takes in the scene. Ichigo’s blood paints the walls, crimson splashes of colour in an otherwise blank, white room, and his bloody footprints are a perfect record of the choreography of the fight. She thinks that she should be surprised that this is how she would find him – curled into the fetal position on the floor,  _tensa zangetsu_ shattered and barely a wisp of his power remaining – but she knows, somehow, this was always how it was going to be. **  
**

Beside her, Renji is silently seething. Rukia can feel the roil and spark of his _reiatsu_ , even through the tight grip of his control. Her own thrums in her chest, the ice of her power keeping a stranglehold on her emotions.She is absurdly grateful for the grim numbness that spreads through her veins. She feels outside of herself, unable to acknowledge that what she is seeing is the vivid and unadulterated truth.

Inoue-san is sprawled off to one side of Ichigo, and Rukia feels the whirl of Renji’s _shunpo_ as he takes off to see to her. Yhwach has slipped through his portal, and it shimmers, luminous and skin-crawlingly silent at the other end of the wrecked throne room. Rukia ignores it, and picks her way across the floor, mindful of the broken columns and uneven, cracked floor.

When she gets to Ichigo, she sinks to her knees beside him.

Behind her, she can hear the skirl of voices – her brother, Hitsugaya- _taichou_ , Renji and Chad – but she dismisses them as distractions and focuses on Ichigo. He is still, but his chest rises and falls, achingly slowly, but it is moving, and for that, Rukia whispers her thanks to a god she’s never before prayed to.

“Ichigo,” she murmurs, “thank you. Thank you. _Thank you_.” He’s alive, he’s _alive_ and whole and even though he’s defeated, he’s _alive_ , and that’s the only thing that matters now.

His blood seeps sluggishly from a myriad of injuries, and Rukia takes a breath to center herself before she reaches for the core of her power and draws it out in a healing shimmer. He’ll have the scars of this fight, because _kido_ doesn’t heal without scarring, but she can at least arrest the bleeding and start his skin knitting. With Inoue-san out cold, Rukia is the best healer they have right now.

He stirs under her hands, and Rukia holds her breath. His eyes flutter open, and Rukia stifles a gasp. There’s despair and then there’s _despair_. This is most assuredly the latter. Ichigo’s gaze is empty in a way she’s never seen it before and she shuffles around so she can pull his head into her lap. He lets her jostle him into position and doesn’t flinch when she smooths her hand across his forehead.

“Ru – Rukia,” His voice breaks. “It’s – she’s –”

“I know,” Rukia says, “don’t try to talk. I need to finish healing you.” The light of the _kido_ shimmers over his skin, and Rukia feels the burn of tears in the back of her eyes. Ichigo gives up and goes limp without a fight and she’s never seen him like this, never seen him so willing to let her look after him.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, after a long moment of silence. Rukia wants to smack him.

“What could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

“I lost. I failed. I –”

“Stop it. Stop it right now! I swear to god, if you don’t stop talking like this, I will end you myself.” Rukia takes a deep breath. “You did _not_ fail. You are still _alive_. You have _lived_ to fight another day.”

“But how?” Ichigo’s voice is plaintive, and Rukia clenches her hands around his shoulders. He winces and hisses in a breath.

“Sorry,” Rukia says shortly, releasing his shoulders. Ichigo looks up at her, and for a moment there’s a spark of something in his eyes. She exhales. Ichigo’s eyes close. “Don’t go to sleep fool,” Rukia admonishes, and one side of Ichigo’s mouth turns up so briefly she wonders if she imagined it.

One of his hands lifts, and his fingers tremble, but they close firmly around her wrist. “Stop,” he says, “don’t waste your energy on me. Inoue needs you more than I do. I’m nothing now, he took everything – the hollow, my quincy power, _everything_.”

His eyes open again, and she sees the spark there again, lurking in the darkness of his gaze. The silence between them stretches, and Rukia can feel the charge in the space between them. His head is heavy in her lap, but his eyes are clearing.

“He didn’t take you,” Rukia says, and then, before she loses the courage to say it out loud; “You were always enough.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Ichigo,” she says, nearly exasperated, “you’ve become the man I saw in my heart all those years ago. The one who fought back the darkness, who won against impossible odds and who still manages to be the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”  

“Love you too Rukia,” Ichigo says, voice slow and slurring. He’s dropping off, and Rukia weaves the _kido_ more tightly around him. 

He’ll sleep now, and sleep easy, and Rukia should really get up and see if anyone else needs help, but instead, she curls over him, and bites down hard on the knuckles of one hand, while she wraps her other arm around her stomach like she’s been gutshot. Sobs heave through her, but she stifles them; teeth in her own skin. She blinks back her tears. They drop anyway, hot and wet on his skin.

_Love you too, Rukia._

Like it was the easiest thing he’s ever said to her, like they haven’t both been denying it for almost as long as they’ve known each other, and now he’s telling her, easy as breathing.

“Not like this Ichigo,” Rukia says, more to herself than Ichigo, who is as out cold as she can make him, “you’ll tell me again, properly, when you know what you’re saying, and I’ll say it back. I promise.”


End file.
